But It Has to Be a Pretty Dress
by OblivianRose
Summary: How the Zevran/Alistair rescue from Fort Drakon should have gone. Crossdressing Al, Pimp Zev. Pure crack, slight romance. You have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Dragon Age: Origins 

Alistair: "I get it. I get it. Just so you, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

Warden: "I think I'd like to see that."

Alistair: "For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress."

Alistair sighed. He had been looking at these papers and treaties Eamon had given him for far too long and was starting to get a headache. He wished Neria was here with her encouraging smile and maybe a healing spell. How had he been convinced to remain behind while she rescued Anora? Oh yeah, he loved her. The number of things that woman could get him to do just by looking at him with those grey-blue eyes was embarrassing. It ranged from the life changing, "Alistair, you need to become king," to the weird, "Alistair, use your Templar abilities on me, I want to know what it feels like," to the mundane, "Alistair, can you chop some wood for our fire tonight?" on an extremely hot day. Although, Alistair supposed, the last one could have been an excuse to get him to take his shirt off. Knowing Neria, it probably was.

Alistair decided to go talk to Eamon, try to wrap his brain around the whole becoming king thing. Not for the first time, he wished Cailan was still alive so he wouldn't even have to think about becoming king. Then, Neria and he could travel, just like they talked about at the beginning of this little adventure. Alistair smiled at the memory. Awkwardly enough, both he and Neria had been nearly half naked during this conversation. Passing through Eamon's richly decorated estate, he contemplated visiting Wynne for a healing spell before deciding against it. She was probably busy brewing poultices along with Leliana and Morrigan, the ones in the party who were best trained in those abilities. He reached Eamon's study, but before he could even get a word out, Anora, Zevran, Stehn, and Neria's Mabari Thorn burst into the room.

"We have a problem," Anora exclaimed. "The Warden has been captured."

"What! How?" Alistair burst out. He knew he should have insisted on coming along.

"She gave herself up to Ser Cauthrian," explained Anora.

"Why didn't she try and fight back?" asked Alistair, confused.

"She didn't want any more bloodshed, and to prove that Arl Howe was wrong," Zevran told him.

"That's not important right now. What we need to is a plan to rescue her," said Anora, in a clipped tone. "She's probably been taken to Fort Drakon.

"Oh, I believe I can come up with a decent plan," said Zevran, with a glint in his eyes. Alistair really didn't like the way the Antivan was staring at him. "I will need a couple of hours to gather supplies though," he continued.

Anora nodded. "Do what you must. Hurry though. We need her back as soon as possible." With that, she glided out of the room.

Alistair stood there, dumbfounded. Of course something like this would happen the one time he wasn't there to help, although what he could have done besides getting captured as well he wasn't sure. He wouldn't have cared though, as long as he was with her. He was so lost in thought he almost didn't notice Zevran walking briskly out of the room. Alistair ran after him and almost bowled over the elf.

_His ears look just like Neria's _thought Alistair before regaining his bearings.

Zevran looked at him coolly. "Yes?" he asked.

"Whatever you're doing, I want in too. I'm not staying behind this time," Alistair declared.

Zevran nodded. "Okay. I had planned on having you accompany me anyway, so this just makes easier." He paused. "A while ago, your Warden told me you offered to put on a dress and dance the Remigold for her. Tell me, does this still hold true?"

"Of course," said Alistair. "But what does that have to do with anything, and since when is she my Warden?"

"Since you got to know her personally, quite personally, if I might a-"

"La la la, not listening," Alistair said loudly. "You still haven't answered my question, what does a dress have to do with your plan?"

Zevran just looked at him mischeviously. "You will see, my dear Alistair, you will see."

AN: I fell in love with this game and Alistair the first time I played it. Have played it through four times since then. Surana was my first character, so I have a soft spot for her. This story is basically how I think the Alistair/Zevran rescue from Fort Drakon should have gone, and a little bit of what follows after.

Read and Review! (If you want)


	2. 2 Rescue

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Italics equals thoughts.  
-

Zevran returned several hours later, carrying two packages. He tossed one to Alistair. "Here, put this on," he ordered. "You might want to get some servants to help with a couple of things. Preferably female ones."

Alistair opened his package. "What the- Zevran, this is a dress!" he burst out, his voice going up several octaves. "You can't really expect me to put this on!"

"You're the one who told Neria you would wear a dress for her, you want to come with to help, and you're the only one who can wear it right now," said Zevran.

"Why can't one of the actual girls wear it?" asked Alistair desperately.

"Eamon's got them running around doing his errands, it would take too long for them to finish up, and don't you want to rescue your love as soon as possible?" asked Zevran.

"More than anything, but-"

"Well then, get your dress on, and get one of the women servants to teach you to walk more like a female. Don't worry about talking, I'll take care of that for you, and hurry up! Neither you nore I want her in that place for any longer than necessary," said Zevran, quickly walking to his room.

Alistair picked up the dress like it was going to transform into a darkspawn at any second. _It's for Neria, it's for Neria_ he chanted in his head.  
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"… and then Neria cast Walking Bomb on Howe, and I stabbed him and he exploded! You should have been there."

This had to top the list of the most embarrassing things he had ever done. For Andraste's sake, the servants had had to stuff _things _into the dress just to fill it out. He could hear the servants snickering as they helped him. And the makeup, how could women stand to wear the stuff! Also, the wig itched.

Alistair glanced over at Zevran, who was dressed in a snazzy red getup, topped off with a huge hat with a jaunty red feather sticking out of it. They were quickly approaching Fort Drakon.

"I still don't get why I had to wear the dress," Alistair hissed.

"What would you rather Oghren or Sten had played the part?" asked Zevran, amused. "I admit, Oghren probably would have enjoyed it, given enough ale, but even I am not foolish enough to ask Sten something like that," he continued, shuddering, "and I don't think that the dog has quite the right build, do you? And I don't think your Ferelden sensibilities would allow you to play my part."

"I still don't like it."

"Besides, the dress and the wig match your skin tone so well, gold tones suit you. That's probably why Neria won't get you any armor other than splintmail, it goes well with your features. Why, I bet if we brought you to a tavern, you'd have half the men lines up within five minutes, wanting to take you home with them-"

"Okay, I am done talking to you!" broke in Alistair.

Zevran sobered. "Good. We're almost there and you are not supposed to be able to talk."

Alistair nodded. Wearing a dress was bad enough as it was, putting on a falsetto without nearly dying would have been impossible.

As they neared Fort Drakon, Zevran changed his demeanor. His look became more confidant and- Alistair blinked. Was Zevran- swaggering? "Just play along, and remember, don't talk," said Zevran quietly.

They approached the guard. Alistair put on what he hoped was a demure expression and stood there silently.

"State your business," the guard barked.

"I have a delivery for the commander of the fort," answered Zevran smoothly.

_If we were just pretending to deliver something, why am I wearing a dress?_ thought Alistair, confused.

The guard looked confused as well. "Well, where is it?" he asked.

Zevran just gestured to Alistair.

Alistair felt his face turning red. _No. There is no possible way he is saying that I am supposed to be-_

The guard just stared. "I didn't know the commander was into that. Huh, you think you know somebody. Wait a minute, what are you doing here then, and why isn't she speaking for herself?"

"I sometimes accompany my workers, it makes them feel safer," answered the Antivan. "As to her voice, well, I'm afraid she suffered an _accident_ while on the job many years ago."

Zevran's tone made Alistair immediately decide never to ask what kind of accident the elf had in mind. By the look on the guard's face, he was thinking the same thing.

"I don't need to hear the rest," the guard said gruffly. "Just, get on in there and for the love of Andraste keep it down. We don't exactly need this story getting around," he sighed.

Zevran nodded, and he and Alistair quickly walked to the waiting room.

"I can't believe that worked," said Alistair in astonishment.

"You Fereldan's are so squeamish with anything to do with sex," said Zevran. "I figured the guard would want to get us out of there as quickly as possible."

"Anyway, do you have anything to fight with? I couldn't exactly figure out a way to smuggle a sword and shield in here with this dress," said Alistair.

"I can think of quite a few ways to smuggle large outfits in a dress, though you probably wouldn't like most of them. And to answer your question, yes, I brought an extra dagger. I figured you could use it. I'm going to hold on to it for now though. A prostitute running around with a dagger might arouse just a tiny bit of suspicion," answered Zevran.

Alistair nodded, and they started walking in the direction of the cells, according to the directions they had been given. They entered a room filled with soldiers and ballistae's. Alistair frowned. The door was guarded by two soldiers. It would be difficult getting past them without looking suspicious. He looked at Zevran and noticed him eyeing a ballistae with great interest and quickly figured what the elf's plan was.

"You'll have to do it," murmured Alistair. "I'd look awkward trying to get up there in this."

The assassin nodded and quickly sprang up the steps and fired the ballistae. The soldiers ran off to investigate the noise, including the two blocking the door. Alistair and Zevran quickly crossed to the next room.

Zevran handed a dagger to Alistair. "You might as well have this now, anyone past this point will know we're not supposed to be here."

Alistair took it, feeling glad to have a weapon in his hand, even one that was a lot smaller than what he was used to.

They quickly made their way toward the cells, taking care of anyone in their path. The looks on the soldier's faces as they were taken down by a whirling, roaring prostitute of death were priceless, and Alistair would have laughed if he wasn't so worried about Neria by this point.

He took a blood covered cell key from the guard he had just stabbed in the neck.

"Come, let us get your lady and get out of this place," urged Zevran, "the longer we're in here the more difficult it will be to leave."

Alistair ran to the cell, and catching a glimpse of Neria laying on the ground, covered with blood almost the same color as her hair, he felt he would have torn the door off its hinges, even if he didn't have a key.

"Bastards," he heard Zevran breathe beside him.

"We need to get her out of here and to Wynne as fast as possible," said Alistair, gently picking Neria up and cradling her in his arms.

Zevran nodded and gathered up Neria's things that had carelessly been tossed in the corner and placed them in the pack he had slung across his back.

Alistair felt Neria shift in his arms. "Alistair?" she asked weakly.

"Shh, I'm here, don't worry. Zev and I are getting you out of here and straight to Wynne," he answered soothingly.

"Are you wearing a dress? No, can't be. That magebane must have been stronger than I thought."

"They gave you magebane?" asked Alistair, trying not to let rage break into his voice.

"Yes, but it's starting to wear off," she answered, breaking off into a cough that brought blood to her lips. Alistair gently wiped it off and then gave her a health poultice to drink. It wouldn't do much, not with the extent of her injuries, but it would stabilize her until they got her to Wynne.

"Not to rush this loving reunion or anything, but don't we have something we should be doing? Like escaping?" Zevran asked.

"Sorry Zev," called Neria.

"No need to apologize, my lady, just concerned with your health, as always."

"Yes, I'm sure it was your health he was always worried about," muttered Alistair.

Neria giggled. "He is right though. We should be getting out of here."

Alistair nodded and started walking, trying not to jostle her as much as possible. It didn't matter. Neria winced with every step he took anyway.

He sent Zevran ahead to scout out any guards and to take care of as many guards as he could. Whenever Alistair heard the sounds of a scuffle, he would gently place Neria down, kiss her forehead, and rush off to join the fray, distracting the guards at the sight of a man in a dress, Alistair having thrown away the wig as soon as he possibly could. They quickly made their way toward the exit.

Alistair returned from a particularly difficult fight, wincing at the pain in his arm. He had feinted left, trying to get near a soldier who had decided to be particularly difficult. The man had seen through the ruse, and aimed a blow at Alistair's stomach. He shifted quickly, and the blow had just left a cut across his forearm. Zevran had quickly dispatched of the man. He thought about using an injury kit, but decided against it. They had no time to waste, and it wasn't life threatening, just painful.

Neria looked up at him, eyes cloudy with pain. "You're hurt," she rasped, holding out her hand, already glowing with familiar healing magic.

"No, don't," he began, but the wound was already closed, and she was leaning back against the wall, exhausted by the casting of one simple spell.

"Why would you do that?" Alistair asked furiously, not sure if he was more mad at himself or her.

"I don't like seeing you hurt," she said simply.

"And I don't like seeing you nearly kill yourself curing something that's not important!" he spat out. Seeing the look on her face, he continued, more gently, "Just, promise me you won't do that again, even if I'm gravely injured."

Neria shook her head. "I won't make that promise, Alistair, you know I won't."

Alistair groaned. "Why must you be so stubborn?"

Neria smiled. "That's why you love me," she teased.

"Well, yes, but right now I'd appreciate it if you would concentrate on healing yourself," he answered.

"Can do," she mumbled, resting her head on his chest. She shifted, and then fell into a restless sleep. Alistair hugged her closer to his chest, and practically ran out the front door.

AN: Sorry it's been so long, I just started college. This was a lot funnier in my head, but eh, figured I'd post it anyway. I have a challenge, prompt, whatever you want to call it. Write either an Alistair/Female Gray Warden (DA:O) or Kaidan/FemShep (Mass Effect) fic with the line "Even now, after everything, I can't make myself regret loving you." If anyone decides to do this, either PM me or let me know in a review. I would do this myself, but the line has been repeating itself in my head for a long time, with no story behind it. Read and Review!


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